Serendipity (Veldora x TBATE)

I sit in retrospective. 

Over the hillside, staring up at the sky. Clear, wide, and endless. Not a cloud in sight. I am Veldora, the Storm Dragon. That title used to be so simple. I was the storm, and storms don't question themselves. They just are. Creation, destruction—it all came naturally, without thought. Power was effortless. I never needed to think about what I did. I existed because that was enough. But now, in this world, something feels… different. 

This human form I wear—I never understood it before, and I never really cared to. Humans, with their short and fragile lives, never deserved more than a passing glance from me. Yet here I am, in their skin, walking among them. It doesn't make me feel weaker. But strangely, I don't feel the need to release my power, either. 

Why? 

I'm not confused. True Dragons don't get confused. But I am curious. 

I close my hand—flesh and bone, not the body I was born with, but it moves the same. It's not fragile, but it feels small compared to what I used to be. I could disappear in this form, hide among the crowds. That's new. I never cared about blending in before, but now it feels… necessary. Not out of fear. No, it's something else. I want to see them. Humans. Their world. Their lives. They move so fast—here one moment, gone the next. And yet, they keep going. What does it mean to them? What does their brief existence amount to? 

I didn't care before. 

Why now? 

Maybe being sealed for so long, trapped in silence and boredom, changed me more than I thought. Before that, I was pure, raw destruction. I didn't notice until now that something shifted. I find myself watching this world, not to see how easily it could be destroyed, but to see how it continues despite its fragility. 

I don't regret what I was. I don't question my nature. Power, chaos, destruction—those are still a part of me. But now, I'm more careful. 

I look back at the sky, wondering what the old me would have done. He wouldn't have hesitated. He'd tear through this world without a second thought. But me now? I want to understand. Why do they fight so hard to live, knowing their lives will end soon? What drives them to build, to connect, to care for things that will vanish? 

Why do they treasure what they know they'll lose? 

I don't have the answers yet. But I'm in no rush. Time doesn't mean the same thing to me as it does to them. I have all the time in the world. But they… they're always racing against it. Maybe that's what fascinates me. Their fragility isn't a weakness. It gives them purpose and a drive to become the best of themselves. 

The wind brushes against my skin, a soft breeze. For the first time in ages, I'm not thinking about destruction or strength. I'm just… being. And that's enough. I close my eyes, letting the quiet wrap around me. It's not loneliness. I've never been lonely. True Dragons don't need others. But this calm, this stillness—it's not so bad. 

It's just life. A life I never noticed before. 

When I opened my eyes, it was gone. Just a dream. Back in my room. But it felt real—more real than anything I've felt in a long time. 

~🐉~ 

A week had passed, and Victoria had long since gone back to Epheotus. 

And in the same continent, in the royal and regal palace of the Indraths—the head of the draconic asuran clans—a powerful man sat on a throne, looking down on another man below the set of stairs donned by a gleaming red carpet. It was General Aldir, and he knelt below the man on the throne, his figure practically oozing with respect. 

"Tell me his name again." 

"It's Veldora, Lord Kezess Indrath," Aldir replied as he addressed the man's—Kezess Indrath—question. 

"And Windsom knows of him?" 

"Yes, my lord. But I believe he does not know of Veldora's… rather strange nature." 

"And how strange is this… non-human but human-looking man?" Kezess asked again, but it was clear he was not that interested, showcased by the fact that he just examined his newly cut nails. Aldir took a moment to reply, which finally garnered Kezess' attention. 

"He's… strong, yes. I believed he can be contained as I saw him rush into battle, but he's an uncanny valley. I just can't picture him as a lesser, and for the most part, I'm almost certain he isn't, my lord." 

Kezess pondered on Aldir's words with finally a slight hint of interest. He leaned forward and continued boring down his gaze on General Aldir. Then, he asked a question, and received an answer he could not believe he would hear from one of the asura's strongest fighters. 

"But would you win?" 

"Nah, I'd lose." 

Aldir slipped into some weird dialect and accent, and he noticed immediately. He slammed his head into the smooth and reflective surface of the red marble floor as he apologized profusely, trying to maintain some semblance of his dignity. 

"Please forgive me, my lord. Though I believe it so, I will engage the man if you order me so immediately. I will make sure I do not dishonor your name." 

Kezess merely looked at him, somewhat confused but unmistakably bothered. General Aldir is one of Kezess's most trusted agents when it comes to combat-related matters. The general is the pride of the Pantheons, and even the dragons could vouch for his strength. 

"Rid this world of him. I do not want uncontrollable pieces to arise." 

Aldir flinched imperceptibly as he continued to bow down. 

"As you wish." 

~🐉~ 

I myself am in the library, browsing for some good books that would entertain me during this little time of stagnancy between Alacrya and Dicathen. Skimming through pages of various books across various bookshelves, I struggled to find a good one to read. I looked to my right and saw a man standing upright wearing a uniform I was all too familiar with. I looked at him for a while and sighed as I closed the book I was skimming through and put it back on the shelf. 

The man approached me with a stiff march. "Warlord," he paused. "You are requested to act as backup to the newly appointed lance, Arthur Leywin in his mission at the town of Slore." 

I pondered his words, more focusing on the man's choice of words. Anyone—even the Lances—wouldn't have heard the word "requested" in an assignment. I think I'm the only one in Dicathen that the council uses that term on. Virion's doing his job well, I thought. Anyways, I nodded simply and waved my hand to dismiss the agent before turning on my heels and going back to the shelf I was scanning before. 

Intricacies of Love—Loneliness of The Pinnacles—the book's title read. 

Hays. 

I put the book back in the shelf and continued on my way outside the library. Descending the stairs outside the library, I stopped my march and looked at the boy standing in front of me with confidence. He had overgrown auburn-colored hair and deep pastel blue eyes. He wore the standard uniforms that I always see the Lances wear. And he has that asuran dragon child that always followed him sitting nicely atop his head. 

"It's nice to properly meet you, Lord Veldora," he began with a somewhat nonchalant smile. "Let me properly introduce myself to you. I am Lance Arthur Leywin, your—" 

"Yeah, whatever," I said, cutting him off as I walked past by his shoulders. "Let's get to it. My time's not something the likes of you can just mess around with." 

That was a lie. I had all the time in the world and I'm actually thankful I have something to do with it. As for why I'm being so grumpy and not admitting my own feelings, that's another story. Now, Arthur didn't say anything else. He didn't even look offended. But his bond—Sylvie as I recall—glared at me ever so slightly. She must've thought I wouldn't notice but I let it slide. 

Side-eyes* 

"Where are we headed again?" I asked the young lance. 

"Town of Slore, sir." 

Right. 

The journey to the town was relatively quick and took less than a day. Both the Leywin boy and I flew in silence over the clouds. I flew in human form and he rode his dragon bond. By the time we arrived, the sun was already burning the clouds orange across the horizon at the sea. The military camp sat on the shore like little specks from high above. Tents cascaded down an improvised path and from them, soldiers entered and exited. A small clearing with chopped logs as chairs was clearly visible due to the massive campfire that lit the center. Soldiers chatted and dueled in this clearing. 

"Do they know we're coming?" I asked Arthur. 

"Yeah, but they have no idea what either of us look like," he replied with a mischievous smirk. 

"I like the way you think, boy." 

Arthur and I flew down silently just outside the barbed wires that defined the boundaries of this military camp. Soldiers in groups of three occasionally passed by to patrol but slipping past them is an easy task. There's a proper entrance, yeah, but that'd mean showing our badge and symbol. That'd complicate whatever this boy was brewing up so I just silently followed him. He snoops around naturally like a master, moving in such a way that steered off any eye of suspicion or whatever from boring into him. 

Is he used to this or what? 

I didn't pay any more mind and just followed him. We both wore formal black suits and had black trench coats draped over our shoulders. So, if you ask me, I have absolutely no idea how anyone hadn't noticed us thus far. We stuck out like sore thumbs. Anyways, we continued walking till we reached a distinguished-looking tent that had its fancy setting it apart from the rest. Ornate military symbols donned the thick fabric of the tent and a large yawning guard stood in front of the entrance. 

At the sight of us approaching, the slacking guard went stiff and serious. He looked at us with a condescending look before stopping Arthur's direct march into the tent with his left hand. 

"This is captain's tent. Off-limits, boys." 

The guard then put his large hand on Arthur's soldier and gripped it firmly as he turned his head to me. 

"You, too. Scram." 

I simply looked at him, somewhat weirded out by my lack of reaction. If it was the me before, I would've been furious just at the thought of someone failing to recognize the authority and majesty of the true dragons. But now? Not so much. It's as incredibly mundane as the years that passed behind my long-lived self. So, with that in mind, I pushed aside Arthur and thrusted my Warlord badge inches before the guard's face. His face became red with panic as he bowed deeply and if that wasn't enough, knelt before me. I paid no mind and simply continued walking onto the tent uninterrupted. 

In the tent was someone familiar. 

"Arthur!" The woman, who froze at the sight of me, immediately loosened up after Arthur came in. What a difference in greeting. 

"Professor Glory!" Arthur returned the energy with a beaming smile. 

"Oh, please, I'm no longer a professor. Besides, you're my senior at work. Just call me Vanesy, please." 

"And just call me Arthur. I insist." 

"Well, if that's what you want." 

The two continued their reunion for a while. I, finding myself in a somewhat awkward position, just surveyed the tent. I examined the map on the large table that sat at the center, went through the pile of documents without regards if they were confidential or otherwise, and stared at the tent's ceiling. That's how awkward I felt. This must be how humans felt when their friends suddenly bumped into another of their friends and they don't know what to say or do. 

The unpleasantness of such an occurrence is infamous—so infamous in fact that it even reached the ears of the divines. 

"Ah, Sir Veldora," Arthur finally called out to me. Vanesy Glory didn't say anything and just showed her respect through bowing a ninety-degree angle. 

Figures, I thought. Vanesy was there when I showed my majesty to everyone and slaughtered the invaders at Xyrus Academy. Seeing such power would make any mortal submit to reverence, right? 

"Kwahahahaha!" 

"Eh?" 

"It's nothing, young woman—" 

"Y-Young?" 

"—And I have business to attend to outside. I won't be far but I'll leave things to the two of you here. I'm only here as backup after all." 

Arthur Leywin tilted his head questioningly. "And what do you plan to do, sir?" 

"Anything. I'm brimming with power but I'm utterly bored and totally depressed! Maybe I needa walk to loosen up my mighty nerves and muscles." 

"O-okay." 

And with that, I left the tent proudly with a proclamation of depression at my wake. The guard outside, who was startled by my loud and booming laugh and came to check inside, hurriedly stepped aside as soon as he saw me again. 

~🐉~ 

Veldora felt like he was going to be sick. Out the tent he went and in the duels he came. Duelists—both augmenters and conjurers—duked it out over there with a tinge of "friendliness" in them, and probably a touch of schizophrenia. Them senior boys acted like beating a couple of new recruits made them the strongest of Dicathen. Even the way they think was laid bare by those sheepish grins plastered on their faces as they "help" the defeated up on their feet by offering a hand. And the naïve new recruits will happily take them up on that offer, genuinely thinking that their seniors are looking out for them. 

"I'll let them be," Veldora muttered under his breath as he inhaled a soup in one go. "It's not like most of them are going to make it out alive, anyways. By the way," Veldora then put down his now empty bowl aside and slightly turned his head behind. "Do you have something you wish to say?" 

"You got me," a voice of a somewhat slightly old woman came out of the crowd. "Haven't seen you around here. Are you new?" 

Veldora took a good look at the woman. She was middle-aged, but something about her set his nerves off. She's somewhat strong, he deduced. But this woman is dressed like a cook. Because she is a cook. Even still, she radiates a battle spirit quite unlike any of the other men. 

"Am I new? Does that concern you?" 

"Quite the tongue, young man." 

"Ah, I wouldn't call me young, woman." 

"…Is that so?" There was a pause—an awkward pause. But it seemed one-sided on the woman's side as Veldora continued observing an ongoing duel between fire and air augmenters. "I'm Astera." 

"'Kay," Veldora replies. 

Aren't you going to introduce yourself? The woman—Astera—was becoming more fed-up. She initially approached the handsome blonde man because she felt intrigued by the shroud of mystery around him. But now that she introduced herself and he didn't even bother doing the same, a vein bulged on the side of her forehead. She gripped the spatula in her hand tightly. 

"Just so you know, you're not my type," Veldora casually says with an arrogant smile. The bulge of vein on Astera's forehead multiplied by three. Her hand that gripped the spatula shivered with rage. 

Veldora ignored all that and cooly drank his drink. Standing up and looking properly at Astera for the first time since she appeared, Veldora scanned her. "Am I supposed to feel scared?" 

Astera just sighed at this and loosened her nerves. It was pointless. Just from his looks alone, you can tell Veldora was as high as his ego reaches. 

"Would you care to help me stretch this old bones of mine?" Astera asked as she showed a battle-driven smirk. 

"Are you seriously inviting me to do the horizontal-loola sexy-sexy time with you?" 

"No! I'm asking you to spar, goddamn it!" 

"Right. You should've used different words. Fine. You better be worth my time, though." 

"I can't imagine." 

The two then went onto the stage. Just the sight of Astera was enough to postpone all ongoing duels. There she was, walking with a strange unbelievably attractive man onto the improvised platform, nothing but an apron and a spatula with her. But the man looked even more unprepared, bored even. 

As they took their positions opposite from each other, Astera side-eyed a nearby soldier. "Mind if I borrow that?" The soldier snapped into focus and hurriedly handed his sword to Astera before returning to where his friends stood. Everyone went silent as they prepared to watch such a rare spectacle of Madam Astera fighting. 

"You supposed to be popular?" Veldora asked, smiling but having a tinge of envy in his tone. 

"Fans?" Astera shot back smugly. "Oh, I have plenty." 

"Hmm. Must be on me if I never heard of ya." 

"I sense jealousy," Astera finished as she instantly dashed towards Veldora, her sword aimed at his neck. But just before contact, a veil of impossibly dense golden mana blocked her strike, shocking the onlookers and Astera herself. "Heh. As I thought. But if I manage to land at least one hit, will you tell me your name?" 

Veldora smiled at her boldness. "Depends." 

Boom. 

A cloud of dust lifted upwards and blocked the view. As it dissipated, Astera was revealed knocked down on the ground, mouth agape, and a streak of blood running down her forehead. Veldora stood in front of her, effortlessly unharmed and unbothered. He smirked. 

"Scratch it. My name's Veldora, your warlord." 

"Eh?"